


Just One Word, "Jaime"

by ikkiM



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Footwear Tossing, Loverboned, Naughty Women of Chat, Women of Naughty Chat, dirty smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:09:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/pseuds/ikkiM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those of you who were in chat last night know what happened.  Smut.  Smut happened.  If you weren't there, check it out.  http://fleetingmusings.tumblr.com/post/87060713111/group-chat-smut-writing  I'm cheesywhizzy.  Guileandsubterfuge then forced me to pull out an old fic and turn it into a one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Word, "Jaime"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MotherofFirkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherofFirkins/gifts), [CommaSplice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice/gifts).



Jaime, who had protected her virtue from the Bloody Mummers, who jumped into a bearpit to save her, was about to save her again. His father had given him an ultimatum, leave the Kingsguard, marry, become the Lannister heir or Brienne would be wed to Gregor Clegane. He was jumping into a bear pit all over again to save her, only this time, he was sacrificing his oaths and his honor. It was almost as awful as watching Renly die.

She whispered her vows. “Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his, and he is mine, from this day, till the end of my days.”

He hadn't waited a moment before finding her, dragging her to the sept. They had no cloaks, save that of the Kingsguard, and it didn’t seem appropriate to use the cloak of a celibate order in a wedding ceremony.

Brienne leaned in to whisper, “I’m sorry, Jaime.” 

He turned to her in confusion. 

The ceremony finished. He strode out of the sept, his hand still linked with hers.

“Where are we going?”

“To my bedchamber.” He didn’t turn to look at her.

“It’s the middle of the day,” she protested.

“We’ll not be sleeping, Wife.” He didn’t break his stride when she stumbled.

\--

She stood in the middle of the Lord Commander’s bedchamber. He slammed the door shut and locked it. He began angrily pulling at the laces of his tunic. Her legs felt weak. She staggered over to sit on the edge of the bed. She put her face in her hands. “I’m sorry for this, and I thank you for saving me.”

“Well, I’m almost twice your age.” He pulled his boots off. “You’re the one who is stuck with an old, oathbreaking, kingslaying cripple. All in all, I’d say I got the better end of the bargain.”

“Ser, I know I’m not the one you want in your bed.” She looked up at him, eyes full of misery. “I’m not the one with whom you would share yourself, your life. I’m not the one who belongs here.” She gestured to his room, his bed. “I swear to you that I’ll not...”

Jaime closed his eyes in thinly disguised disgust and anger. “Shut up, wench,” he interrupted her before she could swear another impossible oath.

He stood before her and used his good hand to shove her shoulder so she lay back on the bed. He bent to take one of her legs and pull off her boot. “You think you don’t belong here?” He tossed the boot behind him and reached for her other leg. “You think you don’t belong in my bed?” He tossed the other boot, this time hitting his writing table.

She nodded.

He stood between her legs looking down at her. He leaned over her. “Every single night since I have returned to King’s Landing I have slept in this bed. Alone. And every single night I have dreamt of you. I dreamt of you in the caves under Casterly Rock, naked but with a flaming sword.” He pulled off his tunic and undershirt. “I dreamt of sparring with a sword in my right hand. I dreamt of you at my knighting by the Sword of the Morning. I dreamt of you swimming in the waters around Tarth. I dreamt of you standing next to me as I slid my sword into Aerys Targaryen’s back.” He unlaced his breeches and shoved them down his thighs. He spread her legs with his and forced her farther back on the bed. “I dreamt of you in this bed, naked and as glorious as you were in Harrenhal.” She looked up at him in confusion. He placed his arms on either side of her and held his face just above hers, their lips not quite touching. “You belong in this bed far more than I.” His voice silky.

She started to speak. 

“Shut up, wench. Whatever you’re going to say, whatever apologies or oaths or talk of honor, I don’t want to hear it. All I want you to say when you’re in my bed is my name.” His voice almost menacing. 

She looked directly up into his eyes and caught her breath at the desire she saw there.

“Say it.”

“Jaime.” 

It felt like a caress. “Again.” He began tugging her shirt free. 

“Jaime.”

“Again.” He unlaced her breeches and began sliding them down her legs.

“Jaime.” 

He pulled her shirt off over her head, tossing it behind him. She moved to cover her chest. He shoved her arms away with his golden hand. She flinched and he pulled back. She grabbed the golden hand and undid the fastenings. She pulled it off and tossed it on the floor; she placed her hand over his stump. “Jaime.” 

He looked into her eyes then let his gaze travel down her nakedness. He could see her begin to flush under his scrutiny. He licked his lips. “Just as I remembered,” he whispered as his mouth crashed in hers.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It wasn’t a kiss for a virginal maid. It was a kiss of long held passion about to be sated. His lips demanded. He groaned as her mouth opened beneath his. 

She felt the hair of his chest tickling her breasts as he began rocking his hips against hers, creating a friction, a need.

“Jaime.” 

He ran his hand along the side of her face, coming to rest on her cheek. “Trust me.” He lost himself in her eyes.

“Jaime.” 

He slid his good hand under her back and lifted her off the bed, pressing her chest into his before pulling them both up and fully up on the bed. He rested his weight on her then, allowing himself to press into her thigh. She gasped at the feel of him, still unsure that he wanted her.

He shifted to lie slightly on his side so his good hand would have freedom to explore all her hidden places. He captured her mouth as his fingers traced circles down her neck, over her collarbone and down her chest. He circled her breast with one finger, then again, each circle smaller as he worked his way towards her nipple. He felt her arch under him, needing, wanting. She tried to pull her mouth from his but he followed her, unable to resist the taste of her.

He placed the tip of his finger on her nipple and held it there, waiting. He pulled back from her mouth. He looked down at his finger on her breast. He rolled her nipple left. He rolled it right. He heard her gasp. She tried to arch into his hand but he pulled away.

“Did you say something, wench?” He met her eyes.

“Jaime.”

He rolled atop her and placed his mouth on her nipple, laving it with his tongue, suckling. He stilled her with his hand on her ribcage as his mouth made its way to her other breast. On impulse, her hands came up to cradle his head, hold him there. He slipped one thigh between hers, rubbing his leg across her wet cunt.

He moved his mouth from her breast to run his teeth along her ribs and down her side, nipping at her waist. He spent a moment licking her hipbone, running his tongue across the crease at the top thigh, finally reaching her thick blonde bush. He rested his cheek on her stomach, breathing in her scent. He ran his hand over her breasts, teasing each nipple before dancing his fingers down her chest, her abdomen, dipping into her navel before finally sliding through her damp curls. She gasped as he palmed her.

“Jaime.” 

He shifted again to settle his chest between her legs. He lifted one leg over his shoulder. He felt rather than saw her try to sit up. He used his stump to press her back down on the bed. He licked the wetness from her thigh. He sat back on his knees, looking at her buttery pink cunt. He pulled her hips up to meet his mouth. The moment his tongue met her clit she rose half off the bed. It took only a moment before she screamed his name.

“Jaime.”

His mouth was relentless, licking sucking, teasing, teeth, lips, tongue. She clenched; she bucked; she writhed; she squirmed, her cunt pulsing over and over as she screamed his name.

“Jaime. Jaime. Jaime. Jaime. Jaime.” 

One more before he pulled back to look at her, his smile smug. “Well, that was surprising.”

She covered her face with her hands and tried to close her legs, twisting away from him.

“Jaime.” 

He pulled one leg again over his shoulder as he ran his fingers up her thigh. “Stop that. I’m not even close to done with you yet.” One fingertip skidded over her clit before coming to rest at her entrance. He teased her open slowly. She pushed her hips toward him. He lazily ran his tongue over her clit as he eased his finger inside her.

She gasped in surprise. “Jaime.”

He began to work her with just his finger, slowly at first, then faster, bringing her close, then stopping to rest inside her, only to bring her close again.

“Jaime.” 

“Are you ready for me? Are you ready to feel my cock inside you?”

“Jaime.” 

He slid his fingers out and kissed her cunt like he’d kissed her mouth. Again she called out his name.

“Jaime.”

He worked his way up her body, tasting her skin, her hip, her ribs, her stomach, her breast, her nipple and finally her neck, scraping his teeth along her jawline before finally recapturing her mouth. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, completely. He pulled back to look into her eyes as he slowly slid himself inside her.

She threw back her head and called out his name, louder this time, like a curse, like a prayer. 

“Jaime.”

They both felt the small tearing. She gasped. He stilled above her. He looked down at her, waiting. It was only a moment before she tilted her hips and tightened around him. He filled her completely.

“Jaime.”

He pulled back slowly, letting her adjust to him, making sure to stroke all of her. She moaned beneath him. She wrapped a leg around his waist, more instinct than understanding. She used her legs to pull him back inside. He laughed softly against her neck. She stilled beneath him, uncertain, unsure.

He looked down at her. Her eyes were closed. “Look at me.” She turned her head to the side. He ground his hips against her. She opened her eyes in surprise. “You’re perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.” He couldn’t hold back any longer. He was in her; he was part of her; they were together; they were one. Her fingers dug into his back, his shoulders. She called out his name.

“Jaime.” Husband.

He felt himself swell inside her and then it was his turn to be lost, calling out her name, roaring like a lion. “Brienne.” Wife.

He collapsed on her with a laugh and moved to roll away. She tightened around him, holding him close with her arms, her legs, her cunt, her heart. 

In the bed where he’d slept for seventeen years, he was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> My Jaime always throws footwear. Why is that?
> 
> Yeah, I just changed the title. Blame CommaSplice, but really, thank her instead.


End file.
